What God Must Feel

Because I’m a mother, I know.

It is late and I am tired. As the day winds to a close and the year comes to its end, I steal a moment to reflect. I feel the yearning of being closer to God, but the chasm between us seems vast. Sometimes my lack of understanding feels like a loss of connection and I feel far from Him. How can I, a vulnerable, petty and small person, possibly relate to God’s awesome might and goodness? Perhaps it starts by finding the godliness in myself.

When this feels impossible I remind myself that God is our Father. I can connect with that because I am a mother.

Sometimes when my children come to me, as children tend to do, complaining about their sister or their brother, who is annoying, doesn’t listen, talks too much, can’t keep a secret… I want to say to the complainer, “Enough! I don’t want to listen to this! He is also my child and I don’t want to hear all his faults. Can’t you just work it out?”

Then I think that this displeasure must be what God feels when He hears us complaining about each other, gossiping and bearing petty grudges.

And sometimes, when I have taken my children on a full day trip to someplace outrageous and spent untold dollars, time and energy on pleasing them and they whine that they are thirsty, tired and sunburned, I want to shout, “I gave you everything today! Can’t you thank me instead of complaining?”

And I think this disappointment must be what God feels when we complain about nonsense, sitting inside our warm houses, filled with the good food He fed us, comfortable inside of our healthy bodies.

Sometimes when I see my children wasting time or lazing around before a big test I want to shout, “Go study! Do something to help yourselves. The answers won’t just come into your head without effort.”

Then I think this frustration must be what God feels when He sees us waiting around for things to get better in our lives instead of trying, doing more mitzvot, working harder on ourselves.

The job of a parent is so difficult. It can be frustrating and disappointing and worrisome! How much more so to the Father of the entire world?

Yet there are times when I see one of my children rising to comfort another who has fallen or failed somehow and is hurting because of it and I think the warmth I feel must be what God feels when we come together to pray for a sick Jewish child, to learn in their merits, to comfort their families.

And sometimes, when my children overcome the playground politics and rise above peer pressure to do the right thing, the brave thing, I think the pride I feel must be how God feels when He watches us trying our hardest to live as good Jews in a world that wants to pull us down.

Sometimes when my children gather together to play, or to sing at the Shabbos table with their arms around each other I think that the nachas I feel must be what God feels when He sees us joining as one at Jewish gatherings, reaching out to each other in unity, feeling our brotherhood.

And sometimes when a child of mine is sick and I rock them in my arms and hurt with them I think this pain must be what God feels when He sees His children suffering and wants only for them to be better, physically, spiritually and emotionally.

Sometimes when I have been angry and my children are contrite and walk around downcast and promise to try harder I think the relief of forgiveness must be what God feels when we return to Him in teshuva and He accepts us again.

And late at night when I look at my children in their beds fast asleep and I watch their peaceful breathing and the graceful shadows of their lashes on their cheeks, I think the hope I feel about the coming day must be what God feels when He takes our souls in His hands each night, and gently, gently places them back in our bodies.

Parenting is rich and rewarding and joyful; we would not trade it for anything in the world. How much more so for the Father of us all!

So when the shofar blows at Neilah, during the close of Yom Kippur, and the shivers run up my spine, I feel cleansed and forgiven, loving and loved, contrite and determined, humbled and proud. I am able to believe in that moment in humanity’s goodness and in my own goodness as well. Then I think I know what God feels when He looks at His world full of flawed, beautiful creatures and He decides again and again to love us, to forgive us, to bless us anew.

Visitor Comments: 12

What a beautiful way to think of G-d. I will use this often. Thank you for inspiring me!

(11)
Adina Gluckin,
August 5, 2014 11:23 PM

This is a truly inspiring story. I enjoyed it so much, it really touched my heart, and meant so much to me.

(10)
jay,
August 17, 2013 12:47 PM

Happiness

Light on the outside, meaningful on the inside. Thanks for a wonderful Family section today.

(9)
judith weber,
July 17, 2013 3:21 AM

many thanks

(8)
Jewell,
October 8, 2012 3:05 PM

Beautiful

Thank you! So true!!

(7)
Joey,
October 1, 2012 5:19 AM

Very nice. :-)
God bless!

(6)
Andrea,
September 26, 2012 12:49 AM

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL WAY TO REFLECT ON THE PAST YEAR AND
START THE NEW YEAR. Just beautiful.

(5)
Anonymous,
September 24, 2012 12:51 PM

Just Beautiful

Sometimes it takes someone who writes a lot to find just the right phrase, and just the right words to say just the right thing.
I am a parent of six kids, and missed a lot of the "nachas" moments, because of my divorce.
Thank you for this absolutely beautiful new perspective, and
G'mar Hatima Tova!

(4)
Anonymous,
September 20, 2012 12:18 PM

THOUGHT-PROVOKING

LOVELY WAY TO LOOK BOTH AT PARENTING AND BEING A JEW! MAY WE ALL MERIT hASHEM'S ENDURING LOVE AND FORGIVENESS

(3)
Anonymous,
September 19, 2012 10:48 PM

tears

As a mother, this piece brought me to tears and brought me so much comfort.

(2)
melissa,
September 19, 2012 7:29 PM

Beautiful

just beautiful. What a lovely and true perspective to take with me into the new year.

(1)
Ariel,
September 19, 2012 5:44 PM

beautifully written

Thank you for allowing me to see parenting on a higher lever. We truly are mirroring Hashems holy work in our daily parenting!
Shana Tova

I'm told that it's a mitzvah to become intoxicated on Purim. This puzzles me, because to my understanding, it is not considered a good thing to become intoxicated, period.

One of the characteristics of the at-risk youth is their use of drugs, including alcohol. In my experience, getting drunk doesn't reveal secrets. It makes people act stupid and irresponsible, doing things they would never do if they were sober. Also, I know a lot about the horrible health effects of abusing alcohol, because I work at a research center that focuses on addiction and substance abuse.

Also, I am an alcoholic, which means that if I drink, very bad things happen. I have not had a drink in 22 years, and I have no intention of starting now. Surely there must be instances where a person is excused from the obligation to drink. I don't see how Judaism could ever promote the idea of getting drunk. It just doesn't seem right.

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Putting aside for a moment all the spiritual and philosophical reasons for getting drunk on Purim, this remains an issue of common sense. Of course, teenagers should be warned of the dangers of acute alcohol ingestion. Of course, nobody should drink and drive. Of course, nobody should become so drunk to the point of negligence in performing mitzvot. And of course, a recovering alcoholic should not partake of alcohol on Purim.

Indeed, the Code of Jewish Law explicitly says that if one suspects the drinking may affect him negatively, then he should NOT drink.

Getting drunk on Purim is actually one of the most difficult mitzvot to do correctly. A person should only drink if it will lead to positive spiritual results - e.g. under the loosening affect of the alcohol, greater awareness will surface of the love for God and Torah found deep in the heart. (Perhaps if we were on a higher spiritual level, we wouldn't need to get drunk!)

Yet the Talmud still speaks of an obligation on Purim of "not knowing the difference between Blessed is Mordechai and Cursed is Haman." How then should a person who doesn't drink get the point of “not knowing”? Simple - just go to sleep! (Rama - OC 695:2)

All this applies to individuals. But the question remains - does drinking on Purim adversely affect the collective social health of the Jewish community?

The aversion to alcoholism is engrained into Jewish consciousness from a number of Biblical and Talmudic sources. There are the rebuking words of prophets - Isaiah 28:1, Hosea 3:1 with Rashi, and Amos 6:6, and the Zohar says that "The wicked stray after wine" (Midrash Ne'alam Parshat Vayera).

It is well known that the rate of alcoholism among Jews has historically been very low. Numerous medical, psychological and sociological studies have confirmed this. The connection between Judaism and sobriety is so evident, that the following conversation is reported by Lawrence Kelemen in "Permission to Receive":

When Dr. Mark Keller, editor of the Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, commented that "practically all Jews do drink, and yet all the world knows that Jews hardly ever become alcoholics," his colleague, Dr. Howard Haggard, director of Yale's Laboratory of Applied Physiology, jokingly proposed converting alcoholics to the Jewish religion in order to immerse them in a culture with healthy attitudes toward drinking!

Perhaps we could suggest that it is precisely because of the use of alcohol in traditional ceremonies (Kiddush, Bris, Purim, etc.), that Jews experience such low rates of alcoholism. This ceremonial usage may actually act like an inoculation - i.e. injecting a safe amount that keeps the disease away.

Of course, as we said earlier, all this needs to be monitored with good common sense. Yet in my personal experience - having been in the company of Torah scholars who were totally drunk on Purim - they acted with extreme gentleness and joy. Amid the Jewish songs and beautiful words of Torah, every year the event is, for me, very special.

Adar 12 marks the dedication of Herod's renovations on the second Holy Temple in Jerusalem in 11 BCE. Herod was king of Judea in the first century BCE who constructed grand projects like the fortresses at Masada and Herodium, the city of Caesarea, and fortifications around the old city of Jerusalem. The most ambitious of Herod's projects was the re-building of the Temple, which was in disrepair after standing over 300 years. Herod's renovations included a huge man-made platform that remains today the largest man-made platform in the world. It took 10,000 men 10 years just to build the retaining walls around the Temple Mount; the Western Wall that we know today is part of that retaining wall. The Temple itself was a phenomenal site, covered in gold and marble. As the Talmud says, "He who has not seen Herod's building, has never in his life seen a truly grand building."

Some people gauge the value of themselves by what they own. But in reality, the entire concept of ownership of possessions is based on an illusion. When you obtain a material object, it does not become part of you. Ownership is merely your right to use specific objects whenever you wish.

How unfortunate is the person who has an ambition to cleave to something impossible to cleave to! Such a person will not obtain what he desires and will experience suffering.

Fortunate is the person whose ambition it is to acquire personal growth that is independent of external factors. Such a person will lead a happy and rewarding life.

With exercising patience you could have saved yourself 400 zuzim (Berachos 20a).

This Talmudic proverb arose from a case where someone was fined 400 zuzim because he acted in undue haste and insulted some one.

I was once pulling into a parking lot. Since I was a bit late for an important appointment, I was terribly annoyed that the lead car in the procession was creeping at a snail's pace. The driver immediately in front of me was showing his impatience by sounding his horn. In my aggravation, I wanted to join him, but I saw no real purpose in adding to the cacophony.

When the lead driver finally pulled into a parking space, I saw a wheelchair symbol on his rear license plate. He was handicapped and was obviously in need of the nearest parking space. I felt bad that I had harbored such hostile feelings about him, but was gratified that I had not sounded my horn, because then I would really have felt guilty for my lack of consideration.

This incident has helped me to delay my reactions to other frustrating situations until I have more time to evaluate all the circumstances. My motives do not stem from lofty principles, but from my desire to avoid having to feel guilt and remorse for having been foolish or inconsiderate.

Today I shall...

try to withhold impulsive reaction, bearing in mind that a hasty act performed without full knowledge of all the circumstances may cause me much distress.

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